The Messenger
by warperchick
Summary: Whiteout lives through his stasis lock and is now in fine health growing up with the Autobots. As the messenger called The Transporter, he delivers datapads to different mechs. He continues with this job until his mechhood. But when a message has to be delivered with crucial information, Whiteout sneaks a peek... OCs, little OOCs, Sunny and Sides being great sires... mostly fluff
1. Delivery for You

**I own Whiteout and Jumper**

**Disclaimer: i dont own transformers.**

**I couldnt find my muse and i know, way overdue... here you go guys, enjoy the sequel to Gimme a Chance!**

* * *

**Chapter 1- Messenger Boy**

Whiteout scurried about in the halls of the Ark carrying piles of datapads in his arms. He crossed mechs, cutting them with a polite 'excuse me' or 'pardon me, coming through.' It was his job as the messenger, to carry datapads to certain mechs from others at a specific time. He was given the little nickname The Transporter, like the man in the movie_ The Transporter_. Whiteout found it as a pass time instead of sitting in his adoptive sires' quarters watching holo-tv and burning out his circuits with pointless human shows. He entertained himself with this. He got to know mechs he would not have known by name. It was midday and Whiteout was almost completed with his armful of datapads. He stopped by Optimus' door and walked in as it was open. He greeted the Prime with a kind, "Hello, Optimus."

The mech lifted his gaze from whatever he was scribbling on the datapad to glance at the youngling. His optics crinkled in a smiling matter, "Why, hello, little one. More datapads for me?"

Whiteout set down the pile on the floor and grabbed the top five, then set them on the desk, "Yep. Same as always, sir."

He lifted the shortened pile back into his arms, "Bye, Optimus!"

Optimus chuckled and he would have smiled, "Good bye, little one."

Whiteout left the office and proceeded to the security office where he needed to have Red Alert sign something about new safety protocols. Whiteout only knew enough about the datapads he carried to an extent. He was only told who they were going to and what was their purpose; he wasn't a nosy youngling so he didn't read any of them. Upon arriving at the security office, he knocked on the door to his left where Red Alert monitored all the activities with his many screens and watchful cameras.

A wary, "Who is it?" answered him.

"Whiteout, sir," he responded.

"Come in,"

Whiteout pushed the button and the doors opened. Whiteout stepped in and set his pile of datapads on the floor, lifting the datapad on the top of the pile. He raised it towards the security director, "The new safety protocols need your signature of approval."

Red Alert took the datapad and touched the screen to online. His optics scanned the datapad, making noises of approval before taking his stylus and scrawling his signature. He gave the datapad to Whiteout who was patiently waiting with the small pile in his arms, "There you go."

"Thank you,"

Whiteout left the office and went down the same hall to Hot Rod's office. The young mech had taken up his carrier's office and though he wasn't as good as Prowl, Hot Rod managed to keep things in order. The 2iC's door was open and Whiteout stepped in and greeted Hot Rod.

"Oh, hey, Whiteout!" Hot Rod greeted back with a smile.

"The top datapad is Red Alert's approval of the new safety protocols and the rest are reports from the patrol teams," Whiteout set the small pile on the desk with a smile as his doorwings lifted happily.

"Thanks kiddo," Hot Rod patted the youngling's shoulder.

"And I'm done for this shift,"

"Good for you,"

Whiteout left with a good bye and went to the rec room. By the time he got there, the bell rang for the end of the shift. He hurriedly filled himself a cube of Energon and claimed a seat before the other mechs could beat him. He chose a seat in one of the corners of the rec room and he casually sipped his Energon as the mass of mechs flooded the room and loud chatters filled his audios. Whiteout saw his sires enter and collect their Energon before moving over to him, sitting on either sides of him. From every other bots' point of view, Sunstreaker was his alpha sire and Sideswipe was his beta sire. For Whiteout, it didn't matter, just as long as either twin was with him.

"How's our little Transporter?" Sunstreaker asked as he placed a small kiss on the youngling's forehelm.

Whiteout flushed and his doorwings drooped in reaction, "I'm fine papa."

He showed his sires a crooked smile- Jazz's crooked smile.

"You have your appointment with Ratchet today. You didn't forget about that, did you?" Sideswipe said. Sideswipe began to get involved with his twin and Whiteout after he had awoken from stasis lock, supporting his brother in raising the youngling. If you could ask any Autobot, they would say Whiteout matured them. Of course, they were still the same goofs, but more responsible.

And although Ratchet was a kind mech- underneath his wrench-flying insanity- Whiteout was not fond of doctors. Not quite yet. He was teased by it often times in a playful manner, calling it doctorphobia. Yet, Whiteout said, "No. I didn't forget. Can I not go? How about during off hours?"

Sunstreaker chuckled, "During off hours, Ratchet is in his cave with the psycho engineer that loves to blow up his aft."

"Besides, you'll get to see Jumper during on hours," Sideswipe added.

Jumper immediately became Whiteout's friend during his recovery to full health. Whiteout was five and he was three. Though Jumper was really young, the prodigy had already created two lion-bots with his explosive sire. Because Jumper was a prodigy, Ratchet and Wheeljack were extremely proud to have created such a smart creation. Though several mechs bet one of their creations would be explosive like the sire.

Upon finishing their Energon, the three went to the medical wing, meeting Ratchet tidying up around the med bay with Jumper sitting on his shoulders while tinkering with a thin and long object.

"Hiya doc!" the twins greeted earning a displeased growl from the CMO.

"Ratchet." He said, "You may not use the term doc."

"Oh, sure. We can't but I'm sure your mate can," Sunstreaker snickered.

"You dirty minded fr- forget it. Whiteout's here for his appointment in preparations of his next upgrade tomorrow morning," Ratchet rolled his optics, swallowing down his swear. No need for colorful language in front of the children.

"Yep," Whiteout peeped. He was excited for the upgrade.

"Alright, Whiteout, you sit there while I prep the equipment," Ratchet said as he pointed to a med berth.

The youngling obeyed and sat down, kicking his pedes forward and back.

* * *

Yay for Whiteout! Please r&r and criticize me! lawls


	2. Upgrade

**Today is Whiteout's 1****st**** birthday and im happy! My little sparkling is growing up! So please review and say happy birthday for little White to be happy. Gifts are accepted. Please r&r**

**Disclaimer: don't own transformers. I own whiteout, jumper, and zircona.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Upgrade**

Whiteout was yawning as Sunstreaker awoke him the next morning bright and early. The youngling's helm nodded as it fell before snapping back up. With an abrupt snort, he said, "I'm up… not sleeeeeee…"

His helm fell again.

Sunstreaker chuckled as he kissed the chevron and lifted his adoptive creation into his arms, "Sure, kiddo."

"Can… I… drink some Energon?" Whiteout asked tiredly.

"Not until after the upgrade. Let's go," the yellow mech said as he left their quarters with his twin in tow. They walked silently through the halls of the Ark towards the medical bay where Ratchet was already preparing his equipment.

"Morning Ratch'!" the twins eagerly greeted. It was loud enough to rouse Whiteout from his drifting sleep.

"NOT SLEEPING!" he shouted.

Ratchet winced at the loud cry in such a silent room before stating, "Don't worry Whiteout, you'll be put to sleep anyway. And please don't shout, Zircona will wake up and cry. Poor little femme gave me trouble last night as is."

"Oh, sorry," Whiteout immediately apologized.

Zircona was Wheeljack's and Ratchet's firstborn femme. She was a month old and had inherited Wheejack's family disease. The disease was slow in the beginning, but as Zircona would receive her upgrades, the disease would worsen times 10. Not a single bot that was sparked with the trait would live past their adult frame. Zircona would die a young adult femme without the chance to explore the world on her own. It was an inevitable death- and a painful one.

Ratchet took Whiteout back to a private room, leaving the twins in the waiting room for several groons of –obviously- wait. Upgrades were tedious and if one thing went wrong, the process to fix it was very aggravating and tiresome. By 11AM, Ratchet came out of the private room, finished at last. The twins looked up from their datapads they held in servo towards the CMO, glancing around the medic's legs for a certain youngling.

Ratchet stepped aside and beckoned Whiteout to move out into the twins' view.

Whiteout's doorwings were drooped in shyness as he stepped out. Some of his facial chubbiness had sunk down to reveal smoother cheekstruts; his visor no longer looked blocky as it had been before, but straight and almost sharply angled. His chevron swooped back a little on his repainted helm. His arms were thinned out and no longer had their chubby appearance. New white armour plating gave Whiteout more movement in his arms. His frame had slimmed down from their bulkiness to a more moveable, curved out frame. Whiteout's legs were longer than before, adding height and would provide for a faster walk with longer strides. One would look at Whiteout and could easily compare him to an average 10 year old human child.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe smiled at Whiteout.

"You look wonderful White!" Sunstreaker said gleefully as he stood up and knelt before the youngling. For once, Whiteout was taller than him in a kneeling position. The youngling continued to flush and smiled bashfully.

"Quite an optic catcher if I must say," Sideswipe added next to his twin.

"Thank you sires," he quietly said under their attention.

"Now run along you three. I have things to tend to. Be sure to fuel Whiteout, twins," Ratchet ordered.

"No problem," the twins both said and the three began to walk out of the med bay and out into the halls of the Ark once more.

Arriving at the rec room, Whiteout wished he could curl up and hide. Every optic turned to him. His ivory armour plating caught the attention of every mech, femme, and mini.

Compliments came out at him.

"Looking good White!"

"The brighter white suits you!"

"What a cute little angel!"

"Aww, look who is growing up!"

He would have turned as red as Cliffjumper's paint.

"Alright you hooters!" Sunstreaker hollered at every bot in the room, "Mind your own business and go back to what you were doing! Those who dare make my sparkling feel uncomfortable will suffer the consequences!"

Sure enough, they all turned away, yet they continued to speak briefly about the youngling before returning to their previous conversations. Sideswipe led Whiteout to their usual spot in the rec room as Sunstreaker went ahead and retrieved their Energon.


	3. Younglings and Friendship

**I dont own anything for shizzle, except all younglings mentioned.**

**Please leave me a review and forgive me for the late update... my explanation as to why i havent updated is in the 7th chapter of forced resentment.**

* * *

Chapter 3- Younglings and Friendship: _One Year Later_

Whiteout ran about the halls of the Ark as he had done many times before. But this time, he was not doing his job. He was off-shift.

He was being chased by the other younglings in a game that they discovered as a pastime for the humans, hide-and-go-seek-tag.

Whiteout's hiding spot had been uncovered and he was sprinting away from the creation of Hound and Mirage, a royal blue and golden youngling designated Aquilles.

Aquilles was the best seeking character of the game, having inherited Hound's excellent nose for tracking. Whiteout on the other hand, had the best idea of hiding in the trickiest places. He had hidden in the rafters of the holding bay they were in, accommodated to be the play house for the resident Autobot children.

He had managed to sweep past Aquilles, but the youngling turned and gave chase into the halls leading away from the play house. When it came to a dead on chase, Whiteout and Aquilles were equally matched. The other younglings that Aquilles uncovered were in tow, but they were well behind.

Aquilles snickered, "I'm going to get you White!"

"Not if I can help it!" Whiteout shouted over his shoulder. He dodged a small pack of minibots, doing a fast twirl around them narrowly missing the wall graze his doorwings. The minibots glanced back at him before opening up for the incoming mob of little ones in pursuit.

Whiteout cut the corner to another hall and bumped into a solid figure, collapsing back onto the ground. He made a small "oof" before looking up to see the Prime standing before him looking startled to see a youngling bump into him. Aquilles and the others stopped as soon as the rounded the corner.

There was a nervous chorus of, "Hi Optimus."

The Autobot leader returned the greeting, "Hello children. I did not expect to see all of you running down the hall."

"We're playing a game, is all sir." Aquilles said.

The younglings all feared Optimus, as he was tremendous in height, so in turn, they all gave him his high respects.

"I just ask of all you to be careful. Now run along and have fun, do not allow me to ruin it." Optimus would have smiled as he walked away.

Aquilles helped up Whiteout from the floor, "Caught you now. So what now?"

Whiteout shrugged, "I don't know. Claim the game console in the rec room?"

"Nah! That's too boring! Besides, the adults have their cool games locked up so we can't 'ruin our processors' with rated M games." Freerun, creation of Cliffjumper and Bumblebee, shot down the idea. The minibot was half the size of most the younglings and gained the nickname Shortstuff. Freerun didn't mind the use of his nickname because it was meant for play, but when it came to insulting him- that being the case was rare- Freerun had the biting temper of his red devil sire.

"True that. How about we sneak into the hidden stash of goodies Wheeljack has in his lab?" Giggabyte suggested. She was the creation of Inferno and Red Alert. The red femme enjoyed her energon goodies, the only reason why she had suggested it.

"So you can eat them?" Jumper turned to her with raised optical brows. He also loved goodies, especially the ones his sire makes to share with the rest of the Autobots.

"To share." Giggabyte growled, upset.

"So your share is larger?" Freerun's twin, Parkore, questioned. Unlike Freerun, Parkore showed more of his bitter side. He was often very snippy and sarcastic. The Autobots thought Parkore to be the incarnated son of the devil. They prayed to Primus to ensure Cliffjumper would never hear a word.

"No!" Giggabyte began to cry.

"Parkore!" Freerun whined.

"She stuffs her face in goodies!" the other twin said to Giggabyte directly.

"GUYS!" Aquilles shouted to claim all attention, "We will not get to Wheeljack's stash of goodies!"

"Parkore, you are mean!" Giggabyte turned and ran. She sobbed as she did, back in the direction of the play house.

"Giggabyte!" Whiteout called after her. He followed after her, easily catching up halfway down the hall.

"Leave me alone!" she said with tears streaming down her faceplate. She began to pull away.

Whiteout held on tighter and pulled her into his arms, locking them so she wouldn't have a way to be set free. From there distance, Whiteout could hear Parkore bicker and give claims of Giggabyte being a selfish goodie hoarder. He could hear the other younglings argue with him and it was a mess of angered voices going back and forth. Giggabyte continued to cry.

"Why…does he have t-to be…so mean?" Giggabyte hiccupped between cries.

"I don't know." Whiteout replied. He frowned as he cleaned her chubby cheeks from the coolant with his thumbs, "You want me to take you to your creators?"

"Mm-hmm." She made a curt nod and they began on their way.

* * *

Whiteout knocked on Red Alert's office door, certain her creators were going to be in there. He stepped back and waited next to Giggabyte. There was some shuffling before the doors opened, revealing the two bots- Red Alert sitting on his usual chair carrying his second and Inferno standing before the younglings.

"What wrong, little lollipop?" Inferno asked as soon as he saw her dried tears.

She ran and hugged Inferno's leg and blubbered, "Parkore called me fat!"

"Did he now?" Inferno didn't sound pleased.

Red Alert jumped from his seat, brushed off the wave of dizziness and scooped up his creation, "You are not fat. Don't listen to that little minibot."

"He didn't say it. But I know he was thinking it." Giggabyte hugged Red Alert's neck.

"Whatever he said or didn't say, don't listen to him." Red Alert carried her inside the office.

Inferno watched his mate, "Red, put her down. You shouldn't be straining yourself."

Red Alert ignored him and continued, sitting down on his chair and continuing to soothe Giggabyte. Inferno sighed and turned to Whiteout who waited in silence to be dismissed, "Thank you for bringing her Whiteout. And calming her down."

"You're welcome. It is what I can do as her friend." Whiteout said.

"And you are a very good friend. Thank you."

Whiteout nodded and left with a small smile. He didn't bother returning to the others, knowing it was already a mess and he wanted to avoid it. Surely Bumblebee had heard the argument and took away his twins. Same with the other creators.

* * *

Whiteout walked to the command center and sighed. Another shift started and it would be the last before the day was out. He went to the boxes where the datapads that were to be sent would be placed and picked up several in arm, their destinations scrawled on a sticky paper he had written on.

Whiteout carried out his job eagerly as he normally did with a smile.


End file.
